


This Love is worth the Gamble

by notebooksandlaptops



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Disaster Jaskier | Dandelion, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Getting Together, Humor, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Las Vegas, Las Vegas Wedding, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, OR IS IT, Pining, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Sharing a Bed, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, They Make It Work, Weddings, lets find out, marrying the wrong person, the right person, yennefer is the only one of them who has a braincell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23875765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notebooksandlaptops/pseuds/notebooksandlaptops
Summary: The morning after Jaskier’s first wedding, he wakes up with a pounding hangover, naked and drooling all over the shoulder of his best friends’ fiancé.Oh fuck, he thinks, noting the glint of a cheap wedding band on his finger, the large block capital writing sprawled on Yennefer’s back that announces ‘JUST MARRIED’ three weeks too early.Promptly, he stumbles to the hotel bathroom to throw up.-///-Or, when Jaskier drunkenly marries his best friend's fiance in Vegas everything in his life gets a hundred times more complicated, not least of all because Jaskier's been pining after said best friend for a decade and a half. If he was going to ruin Geralt's wedding by drunkenly confessing his love to anyone he really didn't think it would be Yennefer and yet...here they are.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 124
Kudos: 344





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the first chapter, the parts in italics are events that happened in the past, while the parts not in italics are the events of the present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first chapter, the parts in italics are events that happened in the past, while the parts not in italics are the events of the present.

The morning after Jaskier’s first wedding, he wakes up with a pounding hangover, naked and drooling all over the shoulder of his best friends’ fiancé.

_ Oh fuck,  _ he thinks, noting the glint of a cheap wedding band on his finger, the large block capital writing sprawled on Yennefer’s back that announces ‘JUST MARRIED’ three weeks too early.

Promptly, he stumbles to the hotel bathroom to throw up.

-///-

_ “And because I am the best man in both name and in spirit, I will be planning  _ both _ your bachelor party and your hen night,” Jaskier winks for dramatic effect. Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite hit as he's hoping it to, but that’s only because Yennefer has chosen painting her nails in favour of looking at him and Geralt is coming across even more stony-faced than usual. _

_ They’re all sitting at Yennefer’s kitchen table, with Jaskier’s huge wedding binder prepped and opened in front of them. He is quite aware, of course, that neither Yennefer nor Geralt are particularly one to go all out on a wedding. Which is why he has placed himself in charge of the proceedings. _

_ (“You’re overcompensating. You shouldn’t even be going to the wedding,” Essi’s voice repeats in his memory. Which he ignores. He is not overcompensating. He is doing what he does best: planning a party. Who cares if that party means the man he’s been in love with for a decade and a half is Officially and Permanently off the market? Certainly not Jaskier, no sir.) _

_ “I haven’t asked you to be my best man yet,” Geralt grunts. _

_ Jaskier waves that off, “but you will because otherwise you’ll end up married at the registry office wearing converse.” _

_ Yennefer snorts, “he would not marry me in converse,” she pauses to check the brushwork of her nails, “But the registry office doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” _

_ Jaskier gasps, hand pressed to his chest in dramatism that is only partly feigned, “no. No, no, no, no, no. You will not waste the most special day of your lives like that. Yennefer, you are rich,” from an unknown source which may or may not be the mafia, because, well, if anyone he knew was raised with organised crime it was this woman, but that was beside the point, “you are incredibly rich. Which means you have no excuse.” _

_ “Jaskier,” Geralt waved his hand at the binder, “this isn’t us.” _

_ “I mean, it’s a little bit Yen, Geralt, come on. She actually has taste.” _

_ “Me and you have very different tastes, Julian,” Yennefer finally raises her eyes to meet his own. _

_ “I know, I know. And I’ll run every major decision by you both. Don’t worry, I’ve got your aesthetics down. It’ll be tasteful, promise. Just…look, you’re both going to hate doing this yourselves. As you said, Geralt, it isn’t you. Which is why you need a proper wedding planner. And I am offering myself up as just that.” _

_ Yennefer and Geralt share a look. It’s one of the ones that leave Jaskier pretty sure they can read each other’s minds. Another reminder that they are perfect for each other. Together. The two of them. Just the two of them. _

_ Geralt finally turns back to face Jaskier, “Alright. Yes. But nothing too extravagant. And everything gets run past me.” _

_ “Cross my heart!” Jaskier grins. _

_ This wedding experience is going to be the best wedding experience in the whole damn world. _

-///-

Among the many,  _ many  _ problems he is now facing, one of the most pressing is that he has no clue how long he’s got until Yennefer wakes up. He’s also working around a deadly headache, which is making plotting how to deal with all this pretty difficult. Still, by the time he’s heaved out most of what’s in his stomach he’s thought about four options

1) Runaway. Immediately. Leave right now. Jump on a plane. Never speak to Geralt or Yennefer again.

The pros of this plan are as follows: he’d never have to actually deal with any of this. The cons: he’s a pretty famous singer-songwriter, and he’s pretty sure that people would come looking if he suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth. Plus, he has all those concerts lined up for September that he doesn’t want to miss.

2) Wake Yennefer up and get killed

Pros and Cons pretty much the same as for plan one, only with the added pain of death on the con list.

3) Wake Yennefer up and rush down to the annulment office while simultaneously destroying all evidence this ever happened

Pros: quick and simple, but risks the unintended outcomes from plan two and also creates the embarrassing ordeal of having to face up to his  _ wife  _ (fuck, his wife, he’s not sure whether that makes him want to laugh or cry) and explain to her that they somehow ended up drunk married on her hen night.

4) Hide all evidence that they ever got  _ drunkenly married in vegas  _ (his life is one fucking cliché after another – fifteen years of gay pining and now this?) and when he wakes Yennefer up  _ if  _ she remembers anything, play it off as a bad dream

Pros: solves the problem of facing the embarrassing ordeal of Yennefer finding out, but also relies on him actually being able to get rid of everything before she wakes up and him having a steller poker face (which, they’ve found out this weekend, he really  _ doesn’t _ ).

None of his plans seem particularly appealing.

He rests his head on the tiles of the hotel room bathroom.

Oh, he is  _ so  _ fucked.

-///-

_ “I believe I said something about  _ nothing too extravagant _ ,” Geralt growls close to Jaskier’s ear. _

_ “Hey! It’s not extravagant!” Which Jaskier is going to continue to insist no matter the evidence to the contrary, “It’s your bachelor party. You only get to do one of these.” _

_ “Jaskier. We had to get on a plane to get here.” _

_ “A cheap airline though!” _

_ “Across the fucking  _ Atlantic Ocean _.” _

_ “Quit your whining, brother,” Lambert laughs, hitting Geralt on the back in a way that is designed to be friendly, but looks like it might hurt just a bit, “it’s Vegas. We are going to have such a good time.” _

_ Jaskier planned this bit perfectly; the boys fly in and get their Vegas party started on the Thursday evening, then fly out again on the Saturday. The girls fly in on the Friday evening, and then fly out again on the Monday. _

_ Two Bachelor/ette parties, one big city known for amazing stories and great nights out, enough money in all their bank accounts to get into the exclusive gambling rooms and Jaskier staying the whole time to oversee everything and make sure it goes perfectly. _

_ With just three weeks to go until the big day, he wants both Yennefer and Geralt to finally get a chance to relax. No matter how much Jaskier tries to take the brunt of the wedding planning onto his own capable shoulders, Geralt and Yennefer are still struggling. He knows that distant and terrifying family members and wedding guests calling up left right and centre keeping them up at all hours of the night. There is also the fact that they’re both struggling to write their vows (which he knows because he’s been called in to help on separate occasions – the session with Geralt turning into a gaming night, the session with Yennefer ending with them both so drunk on wine they couldn’t put pen to paper even if they had a good idea of what she wanted to say). _

_ This is their last weekend away, just friends, before they have to deal with the joys of Yennefer and Geralt’s extended families. _

_ And it’s going to be an  _ amazing _ weekend. Jaskier can feel it. The neon lights of Vegas city are shining, the gambling addicts are out and about, their hotel has a casino and a buffet bar attached: it’s Vegas baby! _

_ What could possibly go wrong? _

-///-

This isn’t the first time Jaskier has gone and fucked about in someone else’s relationship, of course. He had quite a reputation in his early twenties for  _ pointedly  _ ignoring the wedding rings of the ladies he saw in pubs and clubs. Sometimes it worked out well (that  _ excellent  _ threesome with the married couple trying to spice up their sex life is a stand out), sometimes he ended up punched in the face (or at least needing Geralt to get him out of trouble.

But he’s grown out of that now. That isn’t  _ him  _ anymore. Oh, don’t get him wrong, he’s still a horny bastard. He takes a condom wherever he goes just in case. Still, he aims  _ not  _ to destroy marriages or whatever. He’s older and wiser than he was when he and Geralt lived as roommates and besides, his PR team would  _ kill  _ him if he wasn’t careful (ah, the trappings of being a semi-famous singer-songwriter with dedicated fans).

Except he’s stood here, staring at his toes in a bathroom and he’s gone and fucked up not only a relationship but his  _ best friend’s relationship. _

He stifles a hysterical laugh. Essi might have thought he’d ruin the wedding by confessing to Geralt while drunk or something and now he’s gone and cocked it up by Vegas-marrying not  _ Geralt  _ but  _ Yennefer. _

Fuck. Fuck.

-///-

__

_ The bachelor party is a blast and involves, in no particular order: Eskel winning almost 20k at a complicated-looking game involving dice, cards and a wheel and then promptly blowing it all when he tries for double or nothing; Lambert eating his weight in soup (which…don’t ask. Nobody’s really sure where the soup even came from but there are stains all over his shirt anyway); Mousesack turning out to be a surprisingly good dancer once he’s downed ten vodka shots; Jaskier giving an impromptu performance of a couple of his more famous songs which is only put to a halt when Lambert and Geralt join forces to heckle him; and a brief skinny dip into one of the hotel’s outdoor lakes. _

_ Jaskier wakes up in his own bed, horribly hungover but happy nonetheless, with a night full of half-memories and plenty of blurry pictures on his phone to put those memories into focus. _

_ He has the rest of the day to get himself properly sobered up before he collects Yennefer, Triss, Renfri and Essi up from the airport. _

_ Geralt comes with him to meet them at arrivals, and when he sees Yennefer his face does that thing – all soft-eyed and dopy – that makes Jaskier wish— _

_ Wish for nothing but their happiness in life. Obviously. _

_ Yennefer wraps her arms around Geralt and – despite the crowd swarming around the arrivals gates – proceeds to do what can only be classed as a NSFW make-out session. _

_ “You’re staring,” Essi murmurs in his ear. _

_ “Fuck off,” Jaskier mutters, pulling his eyes away to help the rest of the girls with their bags. “Most people are staring. Do they always have to act so hungry for one another?” _

_ Essi shrugs. Somewhere, someone wolf whistles as Yennefer and Geralt finally break apart. _

_ “Well…I’ll give you this,” Essi murmurs, “At least you didn’t get drunk married to Geralt on his bachelor night.” _

_ Jaskier snorts, though he looks around to make sure that Renfri and Triss are out of earshot on instinct. He’s not sure how many people know about his fifteen year long embarrassing crushes on Geralt, but he’d like to keep the number as low as possible. “I’m not _ that _ stupid.” He mutters at last. _

_ Essi just gives him a look. _

_ Which Jaskier thinks, overall, is very undeserved. He’s not ruined this wedding – quite the contrary, he’s the one that’s been soothing it all out. Smooth sailing from this point onwards, and all thanks to him taking captain of a ship that might have docked at a damn registry office without him. _

_ Yep. No way he’s ruining this wedding. No matter what Essi thinks. _

-///-

Eventually he stands up and goes to survey the damage, because he has to. Any one of his plans – however terrible they are – do involve him dragging himself up off the bathroom floor at some point. He can’t stay locked in here forever (unless…no. No. Renfri would just kick down the door)

Yennefer is still passed out when he enters the room, and though the sheet is mostly-covering her there is no way she’s not naked as the day she was born under there. Her back still has the marker pen ‘JUST MARRIED’ scribbled in all caps. He wonders if his back is much the same, but honestly? He’d rather  _ not  _ know.

Jaskier reaches for one of the complementary housecoats. It’s white, silk, and feels entirely too comforting for the situation at hand.

On the dresser there is the marriage certificate, a  _ lot  _ of empty bottles of wine, a couple of chips from the casino downstairs and a white photo album with purple calligraphic font declaring:  _ Photos from the wedding of YENIFER and JASIER.  _ The $30 price tag has not been pulled off. He does  _ not  _ want to look in there.

Oh,  _ fuck. _

He really did it.

He married Yennefer.

He fucking married  _ Yennefer. _

-///-

_ “Know that I’m only submitting to your gothic aesthetic, darling, because this is your bachelorette party and alas, I love you more than I love pastels,” Jaskier lamented mournfully, staring down at his nails stained deep purple. _

_ As was often the case when he hung out with Yennefer, there was a glass of wine in his free hand. He sipped at it intermittently. They were sat in Yennefer’s hotel room, the scent of alcohol, nail polish and lilac perfume clogging the air. A perfect way to set off the evening as Renfri, Triss and Essi got themselves settled. _

_ “Hmm,” Yennefer capped the polish, taking a sip from her own wine glass. After a moment she headed over to the vanity to begin applying richer make up for the evening. _

_ Jaskier watched her apply her lipstick, flopping himself out on top of the bedsheets, “I feel like I have to ask you about, I don’t know. If you’re getting cold feet? Or if you’re excited for your wedding night?” _

_ “Julian. We’re not Victorian women. My wedding night will be like most others I spend with Geralt – loud and pleasurable. As for cold feet…” she shook her head, pausing her words to finish the coat on her top lip, “It’s Geralt. He’s devoted enough. No reason for cold feet, is there?” _

_ No, no reason at all. If Jaskier was the one lucky enough to be marrying Geralt he’d have the opposite of cold feet – warm feet, boiling feet, so hot he’d be running down the aisle like he was walking on hot coals. _

_ But he wasn’t the one lucky enough to be marrying Geralt, so it hardly mattered. Because he was not upset about it. Or jealous. No. Not at all. “Well, I’d ask you about wedding planning, but seen as you left that all up to me…” _

_ “I seem to remember,” she turned to face him, an eyebrow arched, “that it was you who begged to be put in charge of wedding planning.” _

_ “Do you? I don’t recall that at all.” _

_ Yennefer grabbed a pillow off the chair beside her and threw it at his face. _

_ He was glad that he got over his thing with Yennefer; the constant need to undermine her, to make jabs at her. It was foolish, and petty and dumb. Sometimes she was better company than Geralt. _

_ “So. Do I get to know anything about what you got up to on the bachelor party?” She turned back to the mirror to put on her mascara. _

_ Jaskier shrugged, “Eh, nothing much worth telling about, really. Typical night out with Lambert with the added bonus of extra money to gamble with, which went about as well as you could imagine.” _

_ “Not tempted by any…Elvish led chapels? Darth Vader in a dog collar?”  _

_ Jaskier laughed, a true hearty sound, “For who? I doubt Geralt wants to marry one of his foster brothers, and I love Lambert and Eskel, I really do, but I’d rather not spend my life waking up to their ugly mugs. I’m pretty sure they’d be the type to fart in bed and then trap you under the covers.” _

_ Yennefer’s own laugh – her real one, the one that wasn’t polished up for public display – echoed back to him and he felt the warm pride that came whenever he managed to tease it from those lips of hers. She was a mystery to him, most of the time. Cold and poised, harsh edges and defences that only came down when she was with someone she truly cared about – or else when she needed charm to get her own way. The perfect match to Geralt, really. Jaskier should have seen them coming a mile off. _

_ “I’m going to go and put on my dress for the evening. Can I trust that you know me well enough to have not brought any tacky looking ‘Bride’ ribbons for me to wear?” She levelled him with a glare. _

_ “It’s your bachelorette party. Why do you have to ruin all the fun,” Jaskier pouted. _

_ Yennefer patted the top of his head as she walked past to the bathroom, “I think you’ll survive.” _

_ Honestly, why did he even bother? Geralt hadn’t worn the husband-to-be cowboy hat he’d had commissioned either (‘It’s a cowboy hat – cowboys ride horses, you like horses, come on Geralt, please!’). It was like nobody cared at all about the efforts he was going to for this wedding, except of course for Essi who cared about it in so much as she was convinced Jaskier was doing it out of some weird guilt over his affections for Geralt, or some belief that doing all this might hide them away from the world. Which wasn’t true at all, really and— _

_ Jaskier lost his train of thought. _

_ Because Yennefer had stepped out of the bathroom. It was no wedding gown she was wearing but, well, she’d always been the type that could take a man’s breath away, hadn’t she? Her hair tumbling in curls around a beautiful black number that left very little to the imagination but still maintained the length and neckline to remain tasteful? Fuck. _

_ “Geralt has got to see this, hold up,” Jaskier breathed, pulling out his phone to take a few pictures via snapchat. _

_ “Glad to see you think I look so dashing,” Yennefer murmured. _

_ “Well…yeah, of course, I—" _

_ But before he could finish whatever he was going to say the hotel door opened up to reveal a grinning Renfri tugging the other two girls along with her and holding up a bottle of champagne. “Alright, losers, let’s get sloshed.” _

_ And so, that was exactly what they did. _

-///-

Eventually, he catches his reflection in the mirror.

The first thing he notices is not how  _ horrid  _ he looks; his hair a mess, the silk robe tied too loose, the fact that he appears to have one of those fake kid tattoos you get in magazines on his arm (it’s a butterfly with a smiling face that is entirely too creepy for him to handle right now).

No, the first thing he notices is the row of hickies leading from his neck, all the way down his chest. He looks like he’s been  _ ravished.  _ Which usually wouldn’t be such a bad thing, except he knows  _ exactly  _ who did the ravishing and oh  _ gods above. _

Why  _ him _ ? Why did his life always have to be a fucking disaster? Why couldn’t things just go the way he planned for  _ once _ ? All he’d wanted was to throw his best friends a bachelor and bachelorette party they’d always remember – and then give them the best wedding to boot.

Who the fuck knew what was going to happen now.

-///-

_ Memory is a hazy thing; especially after having drunk enough alcohol to knock out an elephant. _

_ A lot of the bachelorette party was lost to wine and bad decisions. Lambert might think he knew how to hold his drink, but it was Renfri that was the master of chugging down drink after drink after drink non-stop and getting everyone else to follow suit. _

_ There is one thing though that Jaskier will always remember: a laugh. _

_ There’s a bed; Yennefer’s hotel bed, he’ll be able to pinpoint later, but right now that’s not important. All that’s important is that there is a bed. There is a bed and stretched out upon it is the most beautiful woman in the content—no, no, in the world. No – in the whole goddamn universe. _

_ And she’s drunk. She’s so, so, so drunk and so is he. They’re going to have such regrets tomorrow, Jaskier can feel it but for now he doesn’t feel anything but happy. _

_ She reaches up and pulls him to her, and their kisses are sloppy and wet and oh so divine. He nudges himself downwards, presses lips to her neck, her breast, the inside of her thigh. _

_ It’s there where she bursts out laughing. “Ticklish,” Yennefer whispers as Jaskier raises a questioning eyebrow, and then he’s laughing too, laughing and laughing and they’re reaching for the packet of condoms Yennefer keeps in her purse and Yennefer’s biting at his neck and, and— _

_ And there’s not much else that’s remembered that night. Just the feeling of warmth and pleasure and joy and such certainty that he’s made the right decision. That’s his last thought, before he falls asleep. He’s made the right decision. _

_ No regrets. _

-///-

Jaskier is just considering checking his phone to see if any evidence of last night's…activities…ended up online. If God is merciful they won’t have but considering the million and one ways this has all gone wrong…well, he doubts God is on his side right now.

Maybe he should just…put on some clothes and leave. Head downstairs. Clear his head. Get some breakfast. Yeah. Plan. That sounded like a good plan.

Except that when he turns around, Yennefer is stretching in bed, blinking open violet eyes to look right at him.

“Well then,” she murmurs after a moment, “Good morning, husband mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited for this AU and have lots of plans for the next six chapters so buckle yourselves in and let's find out just how much of a disaster our dear ot3 can be.
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta for going through this and making sure it all made sense and to both the witcher discord chat and @merthurlocked on tumblr for letting me ramble about this idea!
> 
> Come hang out with me on Tumblr and/or send me a prompt! [@Jaskier-wearing-dresses](https://jaskier-wearing-dresses.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Toss a comment/kudos to your tired fanfic writer?


	2. Chapter 2

Since his first meeting with Yennefer, Jaskier had been half-convinced the woman could read minds.

Right now, he almost hoped it was true. At least then, she’d be able to tell him what the  _ fuck  _ he was thinking because honestly, he had no fucking clue himself. The most he could pinpoint was the swelling, overwhelming panic that was creeping into every atom of his miserably hungover body.

All he could think to do was stare at her: at her tangled bed-head hair, her steady violet eyes, at the random hickies laying on her neck like adornments of the most damning jewellery, of the perfect swell of her breasts—

He coughed, finally managing to drag his gaze away.

“Now, now,” she spoke, and Jaskier wished he could read her better, that he could place the tone of her voice, “I think it’s a bit late for modesty, don’t you? You’ve already touched, you might as well look,” and with that, she slipped out of the bed, bare feet padding towards the bathroom.

Jaskier didn’t look up until he heard the door click shut.

Well…what the fuck?

He’d expected shouting. He’d expected  _ murder.  _ Perhaps she was simply acting calm because to do anything but would ruin her aesthetic but…no. He’d seen Yennefer scream, and rage, and cry before, seen how emotion could contort her expressions and her features. She wasn’t a woman of inaction, she was the opposite. She was a storm.

So what the fuck was she playing at?

He sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed.

He should probably get dressed.

If there was ever a time for a hole to open up in the ground and swallow him whole, this was it. He waited with bated breath and fragile hope that such a thing might happen but…

Nothing.

The world remained in this awful state of reality, one where he had slept with his best friend's fiancé. Nothing changed.

Nothing but the click of the lock and the door to the bathroom reopening. Jaskier glanced up and let out a low yelp when he saw her, still naked, leaning against the doorframe. He didn’t—he shouldn’t be—that  _ wasn’t what he needed to see right now. _

Yennefer snorted, “I meant it, Jaskier. Neither of us are particularly modest anyway and I have no fucking clue where my clothes are right now.”

Jaskier’s voice, when it came out, was a little too high pitched, “You could at least wear a  _ robe. _ ”

She shrugged, “if it’ll make you more comfortable.”

“How—how are you so fucking  _ calm _ ?” Jaskier exclaimed as Yennefer slipped on her own complimentary bathrobe, the white a stark contrast to the colour of her skin. Fuck, she was beautiful. She was  _ so, so beautiful –  _ perhaps the most beautiful woman that Jaskier knew. No, definitely the most beautiful woman Jaskier knew. But that wasn’t the point. “You’re getting  _ married.  _ In three weeks.”

“Evidently, I also got married last night,” she’d moved towards the coffee table, where her hands were brushing lightly over the photo album with their misspelt names on the front. Jaskier prayed to God she left it firmly closed. He had a feeling that opening it would be like opening Pandora's box.

Of course, it was probably too late to keep chaos and evil at bay, all things considered.

“You’re supposed to be getting married to  _ Geralt.  _ Remember? The love of your life? Gorgeous, brooding, head over heels in love with you?”

Frustration built in Jaskier’s stomach as Yennefer merely shrugged again, “this was always going to go tits up at some point, Jaskier. I figured it’d be when you finally spilt the beans on how much you love Geralt. At least this way round, I got some good sex out of it.”

Jaskier yelped, clutching a hand against his chest as if she’d just pulled a knife on him. In a way she had, a very metaphorical, but incredibly pointed knife, “I don’t—I don’t love—me and Geralt aren’t—”

“Oh, please,” Yennefer rolled her eyes, finally putting the album down and beginning to root around in the closet to find some proper clothes, “you follow him around like a puppy dog. Half your songs are about him. If you ever thought you were being  _ subtle,  _ you’re delusional.”

Jaskier’s mouth was agape. He didn’t…he didn’t quite know what to do with all of that, actually. A startling number of situations became awfully, completely and utterly embarrassing. Yennefer  _ knew _ ? How long, exactly, had she known? He pulled his knees up against his chest like a child trying to make themselves smaller, one hand picking idly at the bedspread. He felt naked, with his biggest secret out on display like that. Far more naked than he had when he’d woken up  _ actually naked. _

He almost flinched at a sudden hand on his shoulder. He looked up, swallowing, throat dry, to see Yennefer stood there looking half-pitying, half…something else. Fuck, he really did have a headache, and staring into those knowing violet eyes wasn’t helping matters at all.

“It’s fine, Jaskier. We’ll…sort this out, somehow.”

“It’s  _ not _ fine,” Jaskier tried to take deep breaths, “I  _ married  _ you. We’re  _ married.  _ You have a wedding in three weeks, an amazingly planned, perfect wedding, to an amazing guy. I helped you  _ cheat  _ on him.” He was pretty sure he’d already emptied most of the contents of his stomach into the toilet this morning, but he was suddenly feeling rather sick again, “he’s never going to forgive me.”

“Of course he is,” Yennefer’s tone was no-nonsense. “You’re his favourite person.”

“No,  _ you’re  _ his favourite person,” Jaskier countered, “you’re the one he’s spending the rest of his life with. I’m…I’m the guy who slept with his fiancé.”

“Maybe,” Yennefer allowed, “But he can’t live without either of us. Look I’m not…happy, I betrayed Geralt’s trust either,” for a moment, the calm expression on her face broke into something more like guilt, “but it’s different. If I’d slept with some random guy, then that would be one thing. Sleeping with you… it’s a different situation. We’ll just…have to talk about it with him.”

That was, categorically, the last thing Jaskier wanted to do. He knew it was wise. They wouldn’t be able to get out of this without a proper discussion. But at the same time, the idea of telling Geralt he’d betrayed him like that was…unthinkable.

“We can get an annulment. Probably,” Jaskier pointed out, “we could get one today. Or tomorrow. Nobody would even have to know about all of this. I don’t—” he blinked, trying to think back on the hazy ass memories of the night before, “I think I remember ditching Renfri, Triss and Essi at some point. I doubt anyone but us even knows what happened. We could just—”

Before he could even finish speaking, the door to Yennefer’s hotel suite slammed open.

Jaskier might have actually shrieked a little bit (you couldn’t blame him for that, he was having one of the most stressful mornings of his  _ life _ ).

“You got married?” Renfri’s voice was wild, untamed, and annoyingly – impossibly –  _ loud _ . Jesus, was she not as hungover as they were? Jaskier winced at the sound alone, let alone the contents of her words, “After I spent  _ that  _ much money on my bridesmaids dress. I swear to god, if I don’t even get to wear it, you guys are footing the bill.”

Jaskier paled, “how do you—”

“We all got emails,” Triss stepped in behind Renfri, looking significantly less put together (she’d never been able to handle her alcohol as well as the rest of them). Behind  _ her  _ was Essi. Jaskier didn’t even want to  _ look  _ at Essi to see whatever smug or disappointed expression she might be wearing. He was feeling guilty enough already without an  _ I told you so  _ being thrown into the mix. 

“Yeah, tacky, awful emails,” Renfri wrinkled her nose, “They have a video of the ceremony attached which, I mean, that  _ dress  _ Jaskier. It’s the sluttiest thing I’ve ever seen. Did you have no pride on your wedding night?”

If Jaskier tries hard enough, he thinks he can vaguely recall the dress that Renfri is talking about. He’s pretty sure he shoplifted it, actually, from some cheap gift shop. It may have had the words  _ vegas bitch  _ embroidered on the front in neon pink. He glances about, wondering if he might be able to find it, but it's nowhere to be seen on the admittedly mess of a floor.

“It’s in the bathtub,” Yennefer said, still frustratingly calm. She’d slipped herself into a black t-shirt and an ankle-length skirt. Currently, her hands were busy tying her hair up into a bun, which wasn’t helping the situation at  _ all  _ because it went all the further to highlight the hickies on her neck.

“Did you two have  _ bath  _ sex?” Essi raised an eyebrow, brown eyes tracking the exposed trial of hickies, “How fitting. You know, there was this one time in college where Geralt and Jaskier got really drunk and Geralt let Jaskier  _ bathe  _ him like some Victorian—”

“O-kay!” Jaskier was shaking. No more embarrassing stories. He might die, “Okay. Well. That’s  _ quite  _ enough of that, thank you very much. Embarrassing stories aside I think—” he rubbed his temples, “I think I might need some breakfast.”

“You're living a future embarrassing story right now, Jaskier,” Essi’s voice was smooth and smug as ever, “I don’t think you set it aside, do you?”

Jaskier groaned.

He hated all of them.

Himself most of all.

“I think my…husband…” Yennefer paused, “may need some space.”

Jaskier grunted, wondering if he could perhaps start a life of monosyllabic affirmatives like Geralt tried to live. Probably not, he’d never been good at holding his tongue. Yet maybe if he  _ were  _ he wouldn’t be the sort of person to get into this kind of disaster. If he could just be a little less…himself, maybe he’d be happily waking up, decidedly unmarried and ready to be the best best man alive, instead of the  _ worst  _ best man alive.

“We’ll see you downstairs,” Essi quipped.

And then, they were gone.

Jaskier took a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face.

Well. First things first.

He dug out his phone. He was half expecting a missed phone call or two from Geralt, but there was nothing. Why  _ would  _ there be? It wasn’t like Geralt was expecting anything to go this horrendously wrong. Because he  _ trusted  _ Jaskier and Yennefer.

Jaskier contemplated screaming into a pillow.

Next, he tried to locate his bag from the night before. He was beginning to suspect he’d left it in whatever tacky chapel they’d gotten married in, but no, it was underneath the dress in the bathtub, for some reason (and Renfri was right, it was an awfully tacky looking dress). Luckily, his keys to his own room were still in there, and he crept down the hotel corridor in order to get his clothes together.

Apparently, everything he owned was  _ bright,  _ some degree of floral, and headache-inducing. He groaned, pulling out the one that made his brain pound the least. He desperately needed an aspirin or two, but why would he have thought to pack  _ those  _ on a trip to a city where getting a pounding hangover was practically a mandatory part of the visit.

He thought about just throwing himself into his unused hotel bed and sleeping for the next three or four hours – no, the next three or four  _ years  _ \- to avoid his problems, but the likelihood of that working was slim. It would just leave Yennefer out in the cold to deal with this all alone, and he found that he couldn’t quite stomach that. This wasn’t just her mistake. It was his mistake. It was  _ their  _ mistake. They had to face up to it together.

Eventually, they’d have to face up to Geralt together.

_ Ah, shit. _

-///-

“So, this is a bit of a shock, hm?” Essi had caught him at the buffet, piling scrambled eggs onto his plate. She hadn’t even given him a chance to  _ sit down  _ yet.

“Essi,” he groaned, “I am terribly hungover. If you could keep the  _ I told you so’s  _ to a minimum, that would be swell.”

Essi shrugged. By all rights, she should be just as hungover as him, but she came across perfectly put together. Her hair was plated down her back in pretty looking braids, and though there were bags under her eyes, she wasn’t flinching at the clink of plates being picked up from their stand, “I can’t say  _ I told you so,  _ exactly. I didn’t know you were in love with Yennefer, too. Can’t imagine how you managed to hide that one from me. Though I suppose it makes some sick twisted sort of sense.”

Jaskier shook his head, “I’m  _ not  _ in love with Yennefer too.”

“So that’s why you decided to get married?”

Jaskier turned to glare at her, before realising that doing so would hold up the line and give her the satisfaction of getting a rise out of him. He moved to pile bacon onto his plate instead, “we got married because we were drunk.”

“Oh, and those oh so beautiful vows were just the vodka talking?”

Jaskier closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. He had a feeling he was going to regret asking but, “vows?”

“You haven’t watched your own wedding video, hm? Such a shame, there’s some excellent content on there—”

“Forward me that damn email,” Jaskier muttered, as they headed towards the table where Yennefer, Triss and Renfri were all sat talking in whispers. When Jaskier sat down, they shut up. Didn’t make it hard to guess the mornings topic of discussion was.

“So… let me guess. You’re all talking about my upcoming concerts.”

Renfri snorted, doing nothing to hide her amused expression as she sipped at her orange juice.

“Triss was just explaining that it’ll be easier to get an annulment back home,” Yennefer shrugged, “we’re married for the time being then.”

“But we  _ will  _ be able to get one? You know, before…” he gestured, indicating the  _ wedding  _ that he’d spent  _ hours and hours  _ of his life planning.

“If Geralt’s still up to it, probably.”

_ If  _ Geralt was still up to it. That sick sense of guilt curled in his stomach again.

“Sent it,” Essi spoke up.

“Oh, the wedding video? Here, you’ll be needing these,” Triss smiled, a tad  _ too  _ sweetly, if Jaskier was being honest, and dug a set of earphones from her pocket. It struck Jaskier that though Triss was Yennefer’s friend first and foremost, she had also always been quite fond of Geralt. It was possible she was punishing them by handing them the means to see their own fuckery. Or maybe he was just reading too much into things.

Jaskier wasn’t sure he quite wanted to watch, but Yennefer was already putting in one earphone, and everyone was looking at him expectantly. Thankfully, everyone was kind enough to pretend that his hands weren’t shaking as he withdrew his phone from his pocket and loaded up his emails.

The email itself was…awful. It was  _ pink,  _ with copious amounts of love hearts around the sides. He didn’t need to glance over to know that Yennefer was wrinkling her nose in disgust as the pretty hearts popped one by one to reveal a slightly-blurry-but-oh-so- _ them  _ video.

Jaskier was wearing the absolutely tacky, awful dress. It didn’t quite fit him, so the zip was undone at the back, and unlike the time he’d done drag quasi-professionally in college, he’d neglected to do anything with his hair or make-up. He was smiling, a bright, real smile, grasping Yennefer’s hands in his.

“You’re terrifying,” he was saying, “one of the most terrifying people I know. I may be marrying into the mafia, but do you know what, I don’t care, because you’re terrifying, but you're compelling. You’re gorgeous. There’s so much going on behind those stunning eyes. When we hang out we, um, what’s the word…” he clicked his fingers, stifled a giggle, “we  _ click.  _ We talk  _ shit.  _ And I wanna talk shit with you as long as you live because, because you’re—you’re one of my favourite people and I love you and Geralt shouldn’t get you all to himself. So yeah. Vows. Tada,” on the screen, Jaskier did jazz hands. Sat at the table in the restaurant attached to the hotel, Jaskier struggled with the urge to bury his face in his hands.

Ah.

Those would be the vows Essi was talking about.

And it wasn’t  _ fair.  _ Because even though Yennefer was so, so clearly drunk, she looked  _ far more  _ put together than him on the screen. She was still wearing her black dress, still beautiful as all of heaven and she was looking at Jaskier like she looked at Geralt which was—

Jaskier felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, shifting a horrified expression up towards Essi.

Oh,  _ fuck. _

Essi was right.

He  _ was  _ in love with Yennefer, wasn’t he?

Oh, gods, how hadn’t he noticed? But then, he’d laid it all out there. He supposed he did get jealous, when Geralt looked at Yennefer sometimes, it was just easy to put that down to him wanting Geralt not—not both of them—

This had to be the biggest disaster in his life.

Yennefer’s vows were more succinct and to the point, and she tripped over half her words. Regardless there was an exchange of cheap tacky rings (ones that, Jaskier realised belatedly, they were still wearing) and a deep, sloppy kiss.

The screen faded to black, the chapel logo appearing in calligraphy at the centre of the screen with the words  _ Sorry to all the friends and family who could not attend. _

Jaskier’s cheeks were flaming. He couldn’t even begin to raise his head and look at Yennefer.

“Uh…”

“Do you know who we sent this too?” Yennefer asked, suddenly, after a sharp intake of breath. Her voice was demanding, and a tad worried.

A sudden, quiet gasp seemed to go around the table.

“You  _ wouldn’t  _ have,” Triss murmured.

“We were drunk, Triss. Drunk enough to get married. I think we might have,” Yennefer countered. When Jaskier snuck a glance she looked rather horror-struck.

With the distinct sense he was asking questions that should  _ not  _ be asked, Jaskier dared to open his mouth, “Think we might have what?”

In his hand, his phone started ringing.

He glanced down at the caller ID and realised  _ exactly  _ why everyone was suddenly so worried.

Because they’d sent that video to their friends and family.

They’d probably also sent it to—

_ Geralt. _

“You have to answer that,” Triss reasoned finally.

Jaskier shook his head fast enough to be sharply reminded of his hangover, “We haven’t worked out what we’re going to  _ say  _ and—”

“No, she’s right,” Yennefer put her hand on Jaskier’s knee, “we have to answer it. Maybe he’s not seen the video. Maybe he’s just calling to check-in. Either way…we should.”

Jaskier swallowed, looked at the expectant eyes around the table, and then, very carefully, picked up the phone.

“Hello, Geralt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So I'm finally back on this fic and honestly, it is SO much fun to write asdfgh
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented on chapter one, and thank you to @merthurlocked for originally letting me spill my guts about this AU, and of course @thegirlinthetardisat221b for being my fabulous wonderful beta and always encouraging me. 
> 
> Come hang out with me on Tumblr for drabbles, writing and general witchering [@Jaskier-wearing-dresses](https://jaskier-wearing-dresses.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Toss a comment/kudos to your tired fanfic writer?

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited for this AU and have lots of plans for the next six chapters so buckle yourselves in and let's find out just how much of a disaster our dear ot3 can be.
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta for going through this and making sure it all made sense and to both the witcher discord chat and @merthurlocked on tumblr for letting me ramble about this idea!
> 
> Come hang out with me on Tumblr and/or send me a prompt! [@Jaskier-wearing-dresses](https://jaskier-wearing-dresses.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Toss a comment/kudos to your tired fanfic writer?


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